


Something Like Happiness

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Yesterday's Enterprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'll be like none of this ever happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Happiness

The parameters of their relationship—or rather, a  _lack_  of one—were never outright defined. A silent agreement was formed with a simple nod. Neither of them questioned it, neither of them spoke of it. It was easy, free of commitment and, most importantly, emotional attachment.

Well, it had started out that way.

It wasn’t often that her temper got the better of her. Anger led to rash decisions, and in a war-torn galaxy, countless lives hung on every tactical choice. The cruel reality of their lives was that it was better to be cold and dispassionate. Tasha had learned long ago to keep a tight lid on her emotions, to display a stoic facade at all times.

She lost an away team that day. It was her fault that six officers were now dead. Losing crew members was not a rare occurrence, even on a ship as powerful as theirs, but it never got any easier to cope with the death and destruction that came with the Starfleet life. Tasha supposed that was a good thing, as the day she became indifferent to the loss of life was the day she became as bad as the enemy they sought so hard to defeat.

Data came to check on her later that evening, after they had filed reports and recorded logs. “I was concerned about you,” he’d said in that soft voice he so often used around her.

Tasha deflected, as was usual for her, with some self-deprecating remark, a nervous smile. Most times he was content to let the issue at hand drop, as he knew how stubborn she was once she made her mind. If she didn’t want to talk about it, they weren’t going to, and no amount of protesting would change it. That day, however, he had pressed further, “Are you certain you are all right, Tasha?” And her temper snapped and she lost control, shouting and shouting for what felt like hours, letting loose all the pain she had kept bottled up for years.

She hadn’t meant to take it out on him. He didn’t deserve it. But he took the verbal lashing with a calm and quiet demeanor until she fell silent, breathing heavy, cheeks burning crimson. “I think I’d like to be alone for a while,” she’d mumbled, and Data replied with a short, “as you wish.”

And then something inexplicable made her reach out, grab him by the front of his uniform, and crash her lips to his. It was hard and fast, and he responded in kind, hands tangled in hair, bodies pressed flush against each other’s, her mouth leaving his only to take short gasps of breath. She gave him a light tug toward the bed and he moved with her, bumping into furniture and walls along the way, before she finally fell back onto the mattress, pulling him down alongside.

After, while he dressed, she asked in hushed tones, “Come back tomorrow?” Only a slight moment of hesitation before he nodded, leaned down to brush a ghost of a kiss on her lips, and left for the bridge.

Her friendship with Data was largely unaffected by this new element of their relationship. They spent what little off-duty time they had together, as they always had, only now, they spent some of that time in her bed. While on the bridge, they acknowledged each other with a nod and a crisp, “Commander,” and, “Lieutenant.” If they spared an extra glance or two toward the other’s station, well, that was between them.

A routine eventually took shape, and every night they were both off-duty, Data came to her room. Some nights they just talked, other nights they sat in each other’s company, comfortable with the silence, but most nights her lips were on his as soon as the door slid open. He would stay until she began to drift off to sleep, press a light kiss to her cheek, and leave.

It continued that way for months, until it struck her one night, as Data sat up to find his uniform, that she didn’t want him to leave. She lay a hand on his shoulder and he met her eyes with an arched brow. “Don’t go,” she whispered.

A curious look came over his face and he covered her hand with his own. “Are you certain?”

"Yeah."

Tasha pretended to ignore the flutter in her stomach as a faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he shifted back under the covers. She scooted closer to rest her head on his chest with a satisfied sigh. Sleep came to her in a matter of minutes.

When she woke, he was still there, fingers absently stroking her cheek. “You slept well, I trust?” he asked, and she gave him a short grunt by way of response. Truthfully, it was the best sleep she’d gotten in a long time, but he didn’t need to know that.

Something had changed between them after that night. Not a huge change, just the little things he did. She noticed him glancing back towards tactical more often, making a point to greet her every time he passed her station. Rather than meet her later in the evening, he now accompanied her to her quarters after their duty shifts. He never asked to stay the night and he was always there when she woke.

This hadn’t been part of the plan. When they started this, it was for pure and simple stress relief, but she couldn’t pretend that was the case any longer.

Her feelings for Data were… complicated. He was her closest friend and she was certainly attracted to him on a physical level, but it was _more_  than that. They understood each other,  _really_  understood how the other worked, what made them tick. Tasha trusted him with her life. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she _liked_  the turn their relationship had taken. She looked forward to his delicate touch, his gentle voice, waking up to his arms around her. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable, and it scared her.

What if this was just some experiment in human intimate relationships? He  _was_  a scientist with an insatiable appetite for knowledge about the human condition. There was always the possibility she wasn’t actually important to him.

Now she was just being paranoid. It was true he didn’t feel emotions the same way humans did, but it was obvious he held some sort of affection for her. His behavior with her made that clear. A frustrated huff escaped her lips. It was never supposed to go this far. She hadn’t counted on getting so invested.

Maybe she just needed some space, some time away from him. Perhaps this… infatuation would dissipate on its own if they stopped sleeping together. It was just an infatuation. Nothing more. She resolved to confront him tonight, to insist with a kind, but firm hand that they stop… whatever it is they had.

But fate apparently had other plans for them, and by the end of the day, the entire crew was working nonstop on repairing the Enterprise-C. The distraction was welcome, but she wished it wasn’t due to such dire circumstances.

Castillo was… nice. Handsome. Exactly the sort of person she used to think she would settle down with. He was smitten with her, that much was plain, and she did like him, but… he wasn’t Data.

And Data, it seemed, was avoiding her after their conversation in the turbo lift, and she didn't blame him. He was likely confused as to where they stood, now that she had all but told him her affections lay elsewhere. If Tasha was being honest with herself, even  _she_ was unsure of how they would be going forward. One thing she  _did_ know for sure was that there was no way in hell this was just a stupid crush. 

The choice to assist the Enterprise-C was not a hard one to make. It was clear she didn’t belong in this timeline any more than they did. They needed a tactical officer, and she couldn’t live with the knowledge that she didn’t do everything in her power to make sure they succeeded in their mission.

All eyes were on her as she exited the Captain’s ready room. She steeled herself for the task ahead and made her way to ops. “Commander,” she said, probably standing a bit closer than necessary, “may I see you in the observation lounge?” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Riker and Wesley exchange glances.

"Certainly, Tasha," he nodded, rising from his chair to follow at her heels.

The door slid shut behind them and she took a deep steadying breath. Tasha kept her back to him, unsure if she could bare to look at his face. “I’m going with the Enterprise-C.”

Data was quiet for several painfully long seconds. “I will make no attempt to stop you, however… are you quite certain? You are aware there is no chance of survival.”

Tasha finally turned to find he had moved closer, his face only inches from hers. A furrowed brow and a deep frown scrunched his features and he looked pensive, a little lost. “It’s the right thing to do,” she stated.

"I… understand your reasoning. As I said, I will not attempt to stop you, but…" he shook his head, "I find that I do not want you to go."

Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment, she was desperate to give in to his wish and stay. It was not possible, and she knew it, but in that moment, Tasha would have done anything for a few more precious minutes with him. “I  _have_  to go,” she whispered, ignoring the wobble in her voice.

A nod. His hesitant fingers reached out to grasp hers. “I shall miss you.”

Tasha gave a forced laugh. “Well, it’s like you said earlier. If this all goes according to plan, it'll be like none of this ever happened.”

"Somehow… that does not make it any better."

The plastered smile fell off her face and she hummed in agreement. “Before I go,” Tasha began, “I need you to know that all the time we spent together… that was some of the best times of my life. What we had— _have_ —is important to me.”

His head tilted to the right, lips parted. “Tasha, I was not aware— I was under the impression you had romantic feelings for Lieutenant Castillo.”

She sighed, raked a hand through her hair. “I was… afraid to admit that I had feelings for you. I thought maybe if I tried to distract myself, focus on someone else, maybe those feelings would go away. I like Castillo, but…” she reached up to cup his cheek, “I think I love you.”

Data leaned into her touch, eyes half-lidded. “Do you think… it is possible…” he said slowly, choosing every word with care, “our alternate selves… found happiness with each other?”

Her heart sunk and she almost told him no, that she was dead and there was no chance for them. But maybe, in a universe without war, they  _had_  found something, something  _good_. Tasha rose up on her toes, her lips meeting his, much softer and slower than their usual heated kisses. She pulled back, thumb stroking circles on his cheek, and gave him one last sad smile. “I sure as hell hope so.” And she turned and left without a look back.

"Goodbye, Tasha," he said to the empty room.

 

* * *

 

Altogether, it had been a rather routine day. The spacial anomaly they had come across intrigued him, and he looked forward to the results from the probe they left behind. He had done extensive research into which cat breeds were suitable for first-time pet owners and reread the entire collected works of Sherlock Holmes. Found several hundred new jokes to try. All-in-all, a rather uninteresting day.

Data entered his quarters and immediately made his way to his work station. It used to sit on a shelf where he could see it every day, but several months later, when he did not feel quite as empty anymore, he felt comfortable putting it away. He opened the correct drawer, and gingerly laid the object on the table. Though she was  _always_  in his thoughts, it had been months now since he last played it. But something he could not describe had made him feel the need, the  _urge_  to get it out again.

He pushed a button on the base of the object and an image of Tasha Yar sprung to life, hands clasped in front of her, a smirk playing on her lips. “My friend, Data…” the recording began.

He smiled.


End file.
